


That Handjob Was Zesty

by feminismintensifies



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, i didn't proofread this one and i don't intend on ever doing so, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feminismintensifies/pseuds/feminismintensifies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byungjoo's hand moves rapidly under his shorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Handjob Was Zesty

byungjoo's hand moves rapidly under his shorts, working his length without rhythm because he's so, so close to orgasm that his thighs are quivering and back tense, spine arching-

"byungjoo!" his blood has never run cold faster in his life. he's managed to grab the corner of his blanket and roll up in it like a worm when the door opens fully to reveal hansol.

"what?" byungjoo whines, pressing his face into his pillow, hoping to look sleepy but also because he knows his face is a flaming red right now, knows hansol will pick up on it if he doesn't try to hide it.

"i was just going to ask if you - are you okay?" he hears to door click shut quietly and the shuffle of hansol's feet on the carpet as he approaches byungjoo's bed, and byungjoo wants to die. he thought he'd have privacy today, at least long enough to get off. somehow hansol always manages to invade whatever personal space byungjoo has.

"i'm fine, i was just trying to sleep," byungjoo says into the pillow, but his voice is edging on hysterical as hansol sits on the edge of the bed and sets a hand on his head to pet his hair.

"you sound like you're gonna cry and - god - you feel like you're boiling. are you sick?" hansol coos the question gently, pushing the blanket back from byungjoo's face a little and cupping his cheek.

"what? n - yes. yeah, i'm sick, and i just want to sleep it off," the words fall out of his mouth too fast to sound believable, even to him. hansol raises an eyebrow, noting how red byungjoo is and how the color seems to grow deeper the more he's scrutinized.

"...what were you doing before i came in here?" hansol asks slowly, letting his hand slip down to the side of byungjoo's neck and thumb stroke over the line of his jaw. byungjoo's cock twitches and he bites his tongue to hold in the moan threatening to fall from his lips.

"s - sleeping," he stutters, voice becoming quiet and eyes refusing to look up at hansol. his heart is fluttering like a hummingbird.

"yeah?" hansol asks, voice just as quiet but in a different way - his quietude is a challenge to the truth of byungjoo's words. hansol's other hand comes up to push byungjoo's hair off his forehead and the smirk can be heard in his next words; "your hair is so damp with sweat it's like you've just jogged a mile."

"it's because it's hot in here, i'm feverish -"

"shouldn't you feel cold with a fever?"

"shut up," byungjoo's voice is a pathetic whine. "if you know i wasn't sleeping why are you asking? go away."

"what were you doing?" the way he says it sounds like he's gloating and byungjoo wishes he could smack hansol, but his hands are trapped in the blanket, and one embarrassingly covered in now drying precome.

“nothing, leave me alone.”

now hansol is tugging at his blanket and byungjoo wonders what he’s done in a past life to deserve this. he thought he could make it through this with only the shame of almost being caught with his hand on his dick, the burn of knowing hansol knew but hadn’t seen. he didn’t need hansol to laugh at him, still achingly hard even in such an awkward predicament.

“if you’re so hot, take the blanket off, byungjoo,” hansol murmurs, grabbing the comforter with both hands and trying to yank it out from under the other boy’s body. byungjoo desperately tries to grip it through the layers he’s rolled up in, but it’s useless because hansol’s gotten it and smiles with satisfaction.

byungjoo tries to curl up in a fetal position, both hands cradled between his knees and chest as hansol unrolls him and tosses the blanket to the foot of the bed.

“byungjoo~” he says, and he sounds like he’s on the verge of laughing and byungjoo wants to sink through the mattress and into the floor. hansol grabs his shoulder and tries to turn him on his back. byungjoo resists valiantly, but hansol is still stronger than him by a longshot and all byungjoo can do is close his eyes and clench his hands in fists when hansol’s managed to turn him over.

the worst part of it all is that he’s still hard.

“you didn’t even take your pants off?” hansol asks, voice getting closer because he’s looming over byungjoo. the amusement in his voice is like a stab to the chest, byungjoo knows he’ll never hear the end of this. “what had you so desperate to get off?”

“go away if you’re just going to make fun of me,” byungjoo tries to sound demanding, but it’s still just a whine.

“what else would i do?” hansol asks, and now he rests his chin on byungjoo’s chest. byungjoo still isn’t looking, but he knows hansol is watching him. “did you want me to help you?”

“wh - i - _no_ \- shut -” byungjoo’s sputtering stops when hansol rests a hand on his stomach. “what are you _doing_?” he sounds near panic, but hansol is smoothing his hand down his abdomen and his mind is racing with the possibilities.  
“well you told me not to make fun of you, and i certainly can’t leave you alone knowing - oh, you’re still hard,” hansol sounds so surprised by it, but byungjoo can’t really say he’s thinking much about it because hansol’s hand is on his dick and is byungjoo even breathing?

hansol rubs at the length through byungjoo’s shorts and byungjoo bites his lip, doesn’t want to moan because he already feels pathetic. he doesn’t dare peek at hansol, because he knows hansol is watching him for reactions and he isn’t sure what would happen to him if he looked into those eyes right now.

clearly displeased with byungjoo’s silence, hansol pauses in his motion to shove byungjoo’s shirt a little ways up his stomach, making sure the drag his nails over the erogenous skin on his way back. the muscles there spasm and byungjoo nearly flinches away from the touch, still too sensitive from being so near orgasm, but hansol’s head on his chest is like an anchor.

hansol traces a finger along the hem a byungjoo’s shorts and byungjoo can’t hold back  
his choked gasp at the faint touch. he thinks maybe this is the signal hansol wanted to continue, because his chin stops digging into byungjoo’s sternum as he turns his head to the side to lay on byungjoo’s chest instead.

“you heart is beating like crazy,” hansol murmurs, sounding delighted. taking mercy, he stops agonizingly running a finger over the hypersensitive skin of byungjoo’s lower abdomen and hooks a thumb under the waistband, pushing it halfway down his thighs. hansol makes a small sound when byungjoo’s cock springs from the fabric to make a smacking noise against his stomach, as if elated. byungjoo burns with embarrassment while his gut burns with something else entirely.

without hesitation, hansol licks his palm and wraps his fingers around the base of byungjoo’s dick, moving up and thumbing the head experimentally. precome had once again gather and hansol makes sure to spread it and use it to ease the way back down.

the movement is painfully slow, more teasing than real stimulation, and byungjoo groans deep in his throat. hansol noses byungjoo’s chest through his shirt, and he knows the elder is smug to have elicited such a frustrated tone.

“you’re terrible,” byungjoo says, and his voice cracks on the last syllable. he just wants to get off, he feels like his nerve endings are on fire from being on edge for so long. “please, just -”

he cuts off with a long, deep moan because hansol has changed his tempo, tightened the fist around byungjoo’s length and pumping with newfound vigor. one of byungjoo’s hand’s finds itself gripping the back of hansol’s shirt like a vice and his head pushing back into the pillow because the stimulation was too much.

he comes in stripes over his abdomen and hansol’s hand. hansol milks him through it as his dick softens, doesn’t stop until byungjoo whimpers because it’s become painful from hypersensitivity. when he does relent his merciless touches, he sits up and byungjoo is momentarily disappointed. then, hansol is dragging his already soiled fingers through the come on byungjoo’s stomach before sucking them into his mouth, grin still smug around the digits, and byungjoo wants to die all over again.


End file.
